


Vacation

by CMDAK



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 10:19:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15970328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMDAK/pseuds/CMDAK
Summary: James keeps sending Q postcards and Q sends him back letters until one day he doesn't, forcing James to come back to London.





	Vacation

They had an easy ritual, Q and him. He’d pick up the most ‘tourist’ looking postcard, write something cliché on it that wasn’t entirely untrue – such as he wished he was there or that the sun is much stronger than what they had back in the UK – not include an address for where he would be next because this was Q he was writing to and then be pleasantly surprised to proper letter from the man that had coded upgrades of how everything was going back at MI6 and little stories about his cats when he got to his next stop in his globetrotting.

 

Q had tried to be a bit more personal in his letters once, but when James’ answer came in the form of a ridiculous sum of money wired in his account, he redirected the money right back to him and sent him the most common London postcard that could exist with nothing written on it but the address.

 

That one hurt in a strange way – it seemed that Q had found a way to give him the silent treatment in postcards – so he sent him an actual letter and a small package with knickknacks that he thought Q would like since they were either shaped like a cat or had cats on them and apologized without actually writing down that he was sorry – because, again, this was Q that he was dealing with and the man knew him so well that he understood what he was saying without him having to outright say it.

 

He was easily forgiven as the letter that always followed his subtle apology was not only twice the size of the regular ones as well as a picture of everyone back at MI6, his cats included.

 

And then the letters just…stopped. No matter how many postcards he sent and no matter how long the letters and intricate the small gifts he expedited were, nothing came back and finally, after three months of living in Limbo, James decided to come back to London and see for himself what was keeping Q for answering.

 

The flight was short, he had no trouble finding his luggage, his paperwork was all in order, and the London traffic was kinder than usual so something was definitely wrong. His suspicion grew when the security guard was more than happy to find new ways of delaying him from going to check up on Q.

 

“If the Quartermaster is not here, then I will speak with M.”

 

“He’s here and M’s in a very important meeting,” the guard said hurriedly, not so subtly texting someone. “But we know that he’d insist on showing you all the new improvements we have and since I know you’re only interested in the new cars and weapons, I thought I should offer you the short tour of everything else.”

 

James had actually managed to _relax_ during his extended vacation, even if he had started it with an unofficial mission with a lovely young lady that – for some reason – thought they were a thing – which resulted in him being slapped in the middle of a restaurant – after which he just travelled around the world by himself because he had been burned out. But even after his strength had returned to him, he didn’t feel like he needed to throw himself in harm’s way or that he was bored.

 

But now, as he was staring down at someone who was lying to him even though he was supposed to be on his side, he felt all that peacefulness gone. “The Quartermaster wouldn’t care enough to know that MI6 got a new cafeteria on each floor,” he said slowly, trying to remain calm. “He would also not show me any new weapon or car given that it has been proven time and time again that I have sticky hands so why don’t you cut the—”

 

“The Quartermaster will see you now,” Eve Moneypenny said as she entered the room, a tabled clutched to her chest.

 

The security guard sighed in relief and plopped down on a chair, looking exhausted. James spared him a suspicious look before turning to face Eve with a strained smile, pushing a little bag in her hand. “You’ve always complained that I never bring you back anything nice.”

 

Eve tilted her head and pointed to the bigger, heavier bag he was holding behind his back. “I hope, for your own sake, that it isn’t filled with car parts.”

 

“Cat toys and tea,” James assured her, his smile dropping. “Now take me to Q; it isn’t proper to keep the man waiting.”

 

Since he had been gone, Q had come up with a small underground transport system from the new building to his lair under what was left of the old one. Eve explained that the Prime Minister wasn’t too keen on coughing up the money required to complete the project, but M made sure to remind him that it was thanks to them that they weren’t currently crowning Blofeld and then Q mentioned that they had yet to destroy all the security footage C had gathered of the British higher-ups.

 

James couldn’t help but feel pride swell up inside of him. “That’s my Quartermaster for you,” he said as he hopped out of the small train car, dusting off his suit before continuing to follow Eve deeper into the boffin lair, surprised by all the new, young faces that didn’t spare him a second look before their went right back to their projects and tablets. “I see he also finally got free reign over who to hire.”

 

“With the support of the old boffins, of course,” Eve said, sticking her head in the only office situated in the back of the floor. “I grabbed Bond before he could cause Bill any real trouble although the poor man looked like he wanted nothing more than to retire right then and there.”

 

“I shall be most cross with Bond if that were to happen,” Q’s posh voice came from within the office, all the anxiety leaving James’ body instantly. “The man is an encyclopaedia of good, hidden Chinese restaurants.”

 

“He was stalling,” James said in his defence, fully opening the door and slipping into the office, taking a moment to drink in Q’s profile as he sat hunched over some blueprints with a stressed R right across from him. “I was worried that something happened.”

 

“Something always happens, 007, with or without you here or on active duty,” Q said and waved both R and Eve out of the room. “You really shouldn’t have come all the way London.”

 

Sitting on the sofa without being invited to, James crossed his arms over his chest. “You wrote back even when you were upset with me, so I worried when since I haven’t heard from you in five months. Were you on a mission?”

 

“Emergency mission, yes,” Q confirmed, not moving to face James which was strange because although he trusted the former agent with his life and he had no trouble showing him his back, Q was of the opinion that manners should never be forgotten and that you should face whom you are speaking to when not working on something important and he appeared to just be staring at the blueprint. “Like I said: something always happens, Bond. But I am fine, so you may return to your vacation until you get bored with civilian life.”

 

“You’re far too quick to get rid of me,” James accused Q, sitting up and starting to pace the room. “I know that’s something’s wrong, so what happened on that emergency mission, Q?”

 

“This and that,” Q said softly, turning he chair around to face James and show him that he was now missing half of his right arm and that there was nothing below his right knee. “The first month was the mission, the second month was the slight, medical induced coma I was in, and the rest…” He trailed off, clicking his tongue.

 

“You were not in a chatty mood,” James continued for him, filled with cold anger. “Do the others have an excuse for not letting me know what was happening? The least that I should do for you is to bring a balloon and flowers in the hospital.”

 

Q gave a short nod, pulling his crutch next to himself so he could stand up. “I ordered them not to tell you anything, Bond. There really is no reason for you to interrupt your vacation for something that can’t be helped.”

 

“Can’t be—?”

 

“We have already apprehended the people who did this, so there is no vengeance to be had,” Q interrupted Bond, wobbling towards out of the office with as much dignity as it was possible. “I’m currently allowed to only supervise certain projects and train the new technicians. R consults with me on some missions but for obvious reasons, I am not allowed to actually Quartermaster.”

 

So MI6 was basically inventing things for Q to do to keep him entertained. “If everything is over and done with, come on a holiday with me.”

 

“I might go for a holiday after my operation,” Q said offhandedly, stopping in front of a table that had a bionic arm and leg on it. “The reasons for my newest mortgage.”

 

For once in his life, James refrained from touching what Q had created, afraid that he’d do something to cause irreparable damage. “I need to pay you back for that Aston Martin I stole.”

 

“It was your car to begin with, or did your memory started to finally fail you?” Q asked, eyes narrowed as he inspected the arm. “I’ve implemented some low-grade defensive weaponry the arm and the leg and I do believe that I could make them more battle-ready if necessary, but I do urge you not to take this as an open invitation to lose any of your limbs.”

 

“I will make sure to ask for a cage the next time I dive with sharks,” James muttered, leaning closer to Q so he could whisper. “Last time I checked, _Andrew_ , you were my Quartermaster, not mechanic, so let me give you money for fixing and improving my old Aston.”

 

Q clicked his tongue, annoyed by the use of his real name in the open. “Fine,” he said, straightening up. “R, remind me to issue an invoice for the Aston to Bond when I wake up from my surgery.” He then turned his glare to the former agent. “Happy?”

 

“Not quite,” James admitted. “When is your operation? Will they put you fully under? Are there any risks?”

 

Q pursed his lips. “Your time away hasn’t made you less of a pest, James.”

 

James bowed his head, taking that as a compliment. “I wouldn’t be me if something as simple as a vacation changed the way I acted. Now then, about my questions?”

 

Q rolled his eyes, very obviously fighting back a smile, the area around the desk suddenly devoid of people. “The operation will take place this Friday and I will be fully sedated. As for your latter question, all operations have risks, so why bother asking that?” He leaned on the table, putting his crutch next to the bionic limbs and still crossed his arms over his chest, hiding his missing one under the other. “Any other questions?”

 

“Just one: did you have lunch yet?”

 

***

He woke up feeling numb and fuzzy all over. That was to be expected after surgery, but Q realized that the fuzziness he felt under his left arm – the only one that was him – wasn’t the normal kind and when he looked down, he saw that someone had put a plush cat there with a card attached to it.

 

‘ _Real cats aren’t allowed in the hospital_ ,’ the card read and even though Q couldn’t see things properly without his glasses, he recognized that cursive writing a mile away. “Bond,” he said simply, not actually expecting the man to suddenly appear in his field of vision with a glass of water, resulting in his heart skipping a beat and the machines that were connected to him to register that.

 

“Drink this,” James instructed, holding the glass to Q’s lips while also carefully lifting him a little. “You’ve been in an out for two days,” he continued, voice uncharacteristically soft as he put the empty glass of water on the bedside table so he could fluff the pillows.

 

“Have you been here all that time?” Q rasped out, the doctors and nurses showing up stopping James from answering.

 

The check-up didn’t last long and Q was happy about that because he couldn’t wait to go back to sleep. James also seemed pleased with that since it meant that, so far, Q’s body was accepting the metallic transplants so went back to reading his newspaper while a lone nurse presented Q with a list of things he was allowed to eat the following morning so he could make his menu.

 

“Given that your anaesthesia wore off yesterday, I would recommend something more than simple tea,” she said softly, sighing and slouching a little in defeat when she realized that Q had fallen asleep in the middle of talking. “I’ll have to mark him down for a plain breakfast then.”

 

“He’d like eggs Benedict with hollandaise sauce and the tea isn’t simple,” James said without looking up from his newspaper. “I’ll need access to the kitchen.”

 

“E-excuse me?”

 

James glanced at the young woman over the rim of his newspaper. “You’re new,” he said simply. “I need access to the kitchen to make his breakfast the way he likes it.” The woman continued to look at him like she didn’t understand him. “Just tell Martha that when she takes over in the morning and she’ll know what to do.”

 

Q slept close to midday which meant that when he did wake up, he was starving. James was ended up making Q two more servings of eggs Benedict and James would have made him one more if it hadn’t been for Eve showing up with a little box filled with expensive sweets just for her ‘little head boffin’.

 

“And fresh clothes for Bond,” she added just as the man had sat up to accept the sweets Q was offering him, throwing a bag at his head just to be sure that she did a good job blocking him. “The hospital is still standing and it’s not littered with dead bodies, so I trust everything went perfectly?”

 

Q nodded, glancing amusedly at James. “So far, it looks like my body is accepting everything just fine, but the doctors said before the surgery that they’d still like to wait a week before attaching anything. I still think we should do it now since nothing hurts and no skin rotted,” he grumbled, better covering his armless side with the blanket.

 

“The doctors said you have to wait a week and a week you will wait,” James said from the bathroom door, running his hand down his new tie. “Don’t ever make me be the voice a reason again; it leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”

 

James and Q exchanged a _look_ that made Eve feel like she was the third wheel and she awkwardly cleared her throat as she quickly pulled out her phone from her pocket. “I also bring pictures of your darlings tormenting my fiancée. They seem to have an issue with his suits and coffee as if they are used to very expensive versions of those.” She gave James a look which was completely ignored.

 

“Neither of you smell like their master, so it’s to be expected that they’d act up,” James said instead, switching Q’s empty teacup with a new one and plugging his laptop before sitting back down on his chair. “They just recognize that you’re more of an alpha male than future Mister Moneypenny.”

 

It was no secret that James hated Eve’s lover, but it was a secret _why_. The two knew each other and neither bothered to pretend too hard that they got along. When Eve asked James what was wrong with the man and if he was a traitor or anything as dangerous as that, the man pretty much stomped out of the room, leaving Q behind to explain that it basically boiled down to him not being good enough for her – which led her to believe that Q know more, but she’d have an easier time getting a dead man to talk rather than him.

 

“Make sure you send me the bill for everything they broke,” Q said, breaking the awkward and tense silence.

 

“Then forward that to me,” James chimed in, his face giving away how guilty he felt for Q’s state. “Had I been here…”

 

Q shrugged. “Still would have happened. I was away, remember? Don’t make that face.”

 

“It’s my normal face and I’m reading a newspaper,” James shot back, Eve sighing – how was she still the third wheel when Q was looking at her phone and James was halfway on the other side of the room, not even looking at them? “Your USB cable is in the bottom drawer on the stand to your left. You need a new one, in my opinion, because Turing did a number on it.”

 

Q clicked his tongue, frowning as he flipped the USB end a few times until he got it to enter his laptop. “It’s properly isolated and it works just fine, so why bother?”

 

“Old married couple,” Eve whispered to herself, suddenly wishing to get out of the room as soon as possible so she wouldn’t ruin the intimacy between the two. “R will bring you a new set of clothes later today, Q,” she said louder. “Alongside many gifts from everyone else and about twenty ‘get well’ cards.” Though now she was sure that none would share the same spot as the plush cat Q was still keeping under his arm, seemingly unaware of that.

 

She excused herself ten minutes after Q was done transferring the many pictures and videos of his cats from her phone to his laptop, managing to sneak a candid picture of James sitting by Q’s side, actually smiling softly at the videos he was being shown. She promised herself that she wouldn’t share it with anyone but them at the right time.

 

***

“Can you crush a rock?”

 

Q rolled his eyes and flexed his new metallic fingers once more. “Don’t be silly, James.” It was just the two of them, so Q wasn’t going to hold back on using his actual name. “Comic books and movies present bionic limbs as much stronger than they actually are. I mean, theoretically, you could do everything you see in those, but…” He trailed off and frowned, worrying his lower lip and tipping James off that he had done something very bad – given him an idea.

 

“No,” James said simply, grabbing Q’s hand and pulling him to his feet. “You’re on vacation, so just enjoy it.”

 

James had resumed his globetrotting as soon as both the doctors and the boffins agreed that Q’s implants were a success. He didn’t really need to try too hard to convince Q to come with him since the man was tired and bored beyond belief of mock-training the people he had handpicked to be part of his branch – and thus, well versed in what he was supposed to train them – and with not being allowed to leave London without a proper escort that consisted of two double ohs, four normal MI6 agents and six MI5 senior agents that did a really horrible job at not standing out in public seeing that they all wore black suits, sunglasses, and pretty much growled at whoever got near him.

 

Okay, now that he thought about it, he _might_ have technically kidnapped Q with the man’s blessing since M would probably insist on adding even more agents to their little vacation seeing that _he_ was tagging along, but no one had come after them so maybe he didn’t. Maybe M was happy to have him out of the country as, according to the group of old ladies that the double oh section had turned into while he was away, Q had terrorized him.

 

“Stop asking dumb questions and I will,” Q grumbled, letting James drag him out of their hotel room. “Can we enjoy our vacation at the Museum of Technology?”

 

“We can enjoy it wherever you want as long as it isn’t in a lab where you can turn yourself into an even more valuable asset for MI6 and an even nicer shiny object for our enemies,” James conceded, rolling his eyes and shaking his head at the sullen look Q was given him.

 

The second Q took him up on his offer, James no longer cared where they were going. As far as he was concerned, they could be going to the middle of the Gobi desert without any water and wearing winter clothing or in the middle of Antarctica wearing nothing more than a banana hammock.

 

Luckily for him, Q wasn’t a fan of extreme temperatures and preferred to visit old cities and mountains while wearing appropriate clothing. He always complained that the sun had it in for him and claimed that he got burned after spending just ten minutes on a beach and he now added that cleaning the sand out of his robotic limbs would be a hassle.

 

“Careful there, James. You’re still the voice of reason,” Q teased again, accepting the offered arm.

 

This made James smile as, although they had been on the road for two months and they always shared a room – but never a bed – due to him being paranoid about someone doing away with the younger man in the night, Q tried not to touch him unless he had to. Huge sofa that could easily fit in four people on it with their legs spread? Q sat on an armchair because James tended to fall asleep halfway through whatever show they were supposed to be watching together and he became an unmovable rock – which was true, but this was the first time Q was bothered by it. Kitchenette happened to be smaller than advertised? Q would wait until James was done in it. Riding a cab? Q put his satchel between them and made sure to always be moving around so James couldn’t slip in next to him.

 

At first, James thought that Q was ashamed of his new limbs, but that was quickly proven not to be the case as he was happily sitting in the middle of the living room, shinning them after he had properly washed them in the bathroom with the door wide open so he could hear whatever James was telling him. His sleeping attire was also a dead giveaway of the fact that he didn’t care that he now resembled the Winter Solider, although it took James a bit to realize that because his brain tended to stop working the second he saw Q walk around in nothing by an oversized colourful t-shirt from under he could see just a hint of an equally coloured pair of boxer shorts.

 

No, Q wasn’t keeping his distance due to a physical issue and James didn’t know what to do with that. It had gotten to the point where James was quite happy when they were stuck in a crowded museum, mall, or elevator because that meant he could be sure that Q’s heart was still beating.

 

He supposed Paris was to blame for Q’s sudden need of closeness since the weather was pleasant and for that, he reconsidered his opinion on the city.

 

“What’s got you cracking a smile all of a sudden?” Q asked. “There’s no one in the elevator but us, so you couldn’t be trying to land yourself a sweet bird.”

 

“Can’t I smile when no woman is around?”

 

“Knowing you, no,” Q said simply but did not move away from James. In fact, he clung tighter to him and James’ smile grew more.

 

Nothing else special happened that day. They slowly walked from one museum to another, Q happily answering whatever question James had, loitered on a bench with a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower until they got hungry, spend quite a bit of time in bookstores and a few fancy showrooms, and then ended the night with a nice, light dinner in a restaurant James chose before shuffling up to their room and getting in their respective beds.

 

So, then, why did James wake up panting and sweating, his heart beating a hundred miles per seconds? Because of a nightmare, obviously, but why did he have one? He hadn’t seen any action in a long time, so the images his mind had conjured up made no sense.

 

“James,” Q said sleepily, visible in the darkness of the room that he had lifted his blanket and scooted over a little to make room for him.

 

James dived in next to Q without having to be asked for a second time and he rested his head on his chest, feeling his muscles relax when he heard the man’s steady heartbeat and felt his smell and warmth wash over him. And when Q started to gently massage the back of his neck, he remembered what heaven felt like.

 

“I missed this,” James muttered, brushing his lips against Q’s chest.

 

“Miss Swann wasn’t into cuddling? Or did she hate being the big spoon?” Q challenged, not pulling his punches.

 

Not that James didn’t deserve everything he got. “I’m not entirely sure what Miss Swann was into outside of the mission bed, but she sure as hell wasn’t you and I assure you that your—”

 

“Do not make me kick you out of bed,” Q interrupted him, moving his hand to cover James’ mouth before he could speak again. “It’s not the time to have this talk, okay?” he whispered, sighing when he felt James push a kiss against the palm of his hand before nodding.

 

“I was honest in my postcards,” James said after a full minute of silence. “I really did wish you were there with me.”

 

Q groaned, releasing James so he could turn with his back at him. “Well, I’m here with you now, so close your eyes and go to sleep.”

 

James did as asked, both with going to sleep almost right away – it was a safe environment, Q was right next to him so he’d know right away if anything was wrong with the man, and he had a soldier’s training to instantly fall asleep – and with getting a single bed for their next room, although he made sure that there was a sofa for him in case Q wouldn’t share the bed with him if no nightmares weren’t involved.

 

Luckily for him, it quickly became clear that wouldn’t be the case, Q happily snuggling with him every night and clinging to his arm every time it was offered to him, eventually surprising James when he suddenly sat down on the sofa while he was there and leaned against him, covering both of them with a blanket even though they were no longer in Paris.

 

From that moment on, their intimate moments grew in number. The elevator no longer had to be crowded for Q to push himself close against James, their arm holding evolved into hand-holding with fingers entwined, Q rubbed against James when he wanted to grab something from the kitchen even if there was more than enough room to go around him and, finally, one day before they were set to go back to London, James pushed a kiss to the back of Q’s neck while Q was laughing at the story James had just finished about the time he was stuck caring for a family of cats because he the pregnant mother cat snuck in one of his hotel rooms.

 

Q turned to face him and James expected to be slapped and told off before Q announced that his vacation was ruined and stomping off to their room, but that didn’t happen. Q was in deep thought for what felt like an eternity, eyebrows knitted, and then he flashed him a small smile, took his glasses off and closed his eyes, tilting his head forward a little, openly inviting James to kiss him.

 

They made out for a good half an hour, but they didn’t go beyond that and when they went to bed, they simply slept like they always did with James over Q’s chest, and Q with his limbs tightly wrapped around him as if both were afraid that someone will come and rip them apart.

 

In hindsight, James should have realized that there was another reason why Q held on to him the way he did that night and that they should have talked the second they woke up, but he always had a problem seeing the big picture. His excuse this time for not being able to think was because as soon as they were back in Q’s flat, they were making out again and this time, clothes were discarded and pleas were whispered.

 

He felt a surge of energy when he buried himself in the shivering man, losing himself completely in his warmth and moans of pleasure, his own ability to form words completely disappearing when he felt Q’s muscles tighten around him. He never wanted that high to end, hugging Q tightly and biting down on his shoulder as he soared through the heavens and then gathering the satisfied man in his arms and holding him until sleep claimed both of them, uncaring of the state of the bed or themselves.

 

His mistake came the very next morning when he untangled himself from Q and snuck out of bed, intending to serve him breakfast in bed. It took him longer than planned because there was no food in the house – not even cat food since the cats were still at Eve’s – so he had to go shopping, but he moved fast. He was just about done with the plating when he heard a loud noise coming from the bedroom.

 

“Bloody bastard,” Q was muttering next to his totalled phone when James barged into the room. “You’re…still here.” Q said, his anger instantly getting replaced very obvious surprise, uncaring that James was pointing a gun at his head.

 

“Well, yeah,” James said slowly, quickly putting the safety back on and placing the gun on a chair. “Why wouldn’t… Oh.” And that was when it dawned on him, embarrassed that he had forgotten how their last bedroom dance ended. “Maybe we should have that conversation now.”

 

***

The last time Q had felt this awkward was in his first year of college when his mother walked in on him and his first boyfriend ever getting ready to have some good times in his dorm room. Coincidentally, that was also when he came out to his mother and the only thing that surprised her was his taste in men.

 

She’d probably scoff at James as well, even if he looked nothing like his first boyfriend, especially since they somehow ended up back in bed not five minutes after deciding that they needed to talk and now they were awkwardly staring at the ceiling, Q eyeing the bedside table in which he’d stuffed his last pack of cigarettes two years ago – after all, if he couldn’t kick one bad habit that was James, why should he deny himself something else that wasn’t good for him overall but which he enjoyed nonetheless?

 

“We can skip the talk and just not do this again,” Q offered. “You’ll probably want to go back on your vacation and if we give it a few months, it will be easier this time.” Even he didn’t believe himself despite his tired self, but he really wasn’t in a mood to face the reality of how hard it will be for _him_.

 

James leaned over Q, carefully rolling a lock of his soft, brown hair on his finger. “Do you want me to go?”

 

“No,” Q answered without missing a beat, sighing. “But I don’t want you to stay if you don’t want to.”

 

James hummed, moving to nuzzle Q’s ear. “But I do want to stay,” he whispered, sending shivers down Q’s spine because he was a right bastard that recovered his libido very fast given his age. “I want to wake up plastered against you and cook you breakfast. I want to go on another vacation with you. I want to listen to you talking about everything you like and seeing how bright your face becomes.”

 

“You make a good pillow,” Q said slowly, suddenly at a loss of words. James had always been good with words when he wasn’t joking around and he knew how to sweep people off their feet without trying too hard and because Q had been forced to listen in on so many of his missions – they honeypots and the normal kind – he knew when he was doing something out of reflex or duty and when he was being honest and just now, James had been honest.

 

“At least I’m good for something,” James said amusedly, starting to gently nibble on Q’s ear, moving his hand away from his hair to cup his chin. “But I promise to work hard and get better at _other_ things.”

 

There was something else that Q wanted to talk about with James, something about Eve’s fiancée, but he forgot exactly what. James’ deep kisses tended to do that and the bastard was well aware of it. But he supposed it didn’t matter - nothing mattered right then and there but the warmth of James’ touches and kisses and how light his heart finally felt.


End file.
